


my mouth, devouring your prayers

by all_the_storm_left_was (glorious_ruins_and_remains)



Series: in a kinder world, perhaps [1]
Category: Blood of Zeus (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Issues, Guilt, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Riding, Secret Relationship, it's new year of course im going to write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_ruins_and_remains/pseuds/all_the_storm_left_was
Summary: Heron starts moving, undulating like a dark snake of a shadow, and Seraphim’s breath catches in his throat.“You’re divine,” he groans and breathless laughter tinkles above him.“Father will be furious, you're late at your own gala."
Relationships: Heron/Seraphim (Blood of Zeus)
Series: in a kinder world, perhaps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088132
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	my mouth, devouring your prayers

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! Kindly take care of yourself when reading this work.
> 
> This is a part of series I'm working on, the works are unrelated but they do share a theme of 'for whatever reason, what if the King decided to keep Heron and Electra?'

Heron's hands are claws upon his shoulders, the thick nails digging in his flesh such wonderful contrast to the heat descending down his cock. Seraphim's own hands are occupied with holding his brother's hips steady lest the boy just bounces down on his cock without any preparation. 

"Shit," Heron whimpers, wine tinged breath fanning across Seraphim's face, " _ shit _ ." 

There's such a mischievous delight running down Seraphim's body as he licks a long stripe from the crook of his brother's neck to the back of his ear, giddy in the knowledge that it is he the reason for the trembling of the body above him, that it is the want for him that has Heron hissing curses and prayers at the same time. 

Nibbling on a delectable earlobe, Seraphim mouths around the reddening flesh, “ _ Slow down, brother.” _

Heron hisses at him, “Can’t take me,  _ brother _ ?”

He guides his brother's body further down on his cock, revelling in the hiss that cuts off into a breathless moan and the flush that blooms like soft peaches against Heron's tanned skin. Such lovely skin, what suppleness for his tongue to worship. Seraphim kisses the side of Heron’s neck, soft butterfly kisses that have his brother’s skin prickling in want and his mouth crying out pleading mewls.

Their foreheads press together, twin breaths mingling into one. 

One of Seraphim's hands wanders up, a thumb flicking a hardening nipple on its way before resting ultimately on the soft cheeks of his brother. Heron leans into it, mouth opening to welcome the thumb that Seraphim pushes into it just as his body welcomes the whole length of Seraphim’s cock.

_ “Fuck.”  _ He whines, sucking on the thumb even as his eyes squeeze shut and his fingers tremble tight. 

Seraphim kisses him, bites his lips, and licks the roof of his mouth. Once, twice, then thrice, just because he can. He kisses him deep, using his thumb to open his brother’s mouth wider and sucking the sour sweetness of century-old wine from his tongue. Heron answers him with equal hunger, limbs all tightening around him. To spend a century drinking the sweetness of his brother would be Seraphim’s greatest bliss. 

Heron’s legs spasm as Seraphim drags him down the last inch of his cock, knocking the lantern they brought into the stables and whining louder than the neighing horses. Seraphim’s last vision before the impact snuffs out the flickering light is his brother’s face, blushing and mouth open in such heavy lust. In the darkness that follows, one broken only but starlight that managed to seep through the walls of the Royal Stables, the only thing he can see is the glint of his brother’s eyes above him. 

Electric blue that always pulls one in.

It’s the blue sky to Seraphim’s brown earth, Mother has always said.

( _ Abomination _ , Father has spat to Heron’s face and Seraphim just stood there, fist clenched and lips torn open by his angry teeth.  _ Family is everything _ , he chanted to himself.)

Heron starts moving, undulating like a dark snake of a shadow, and Seraphim’s breath catches in his throat. 

“You’re  _ divine, _ ” he groans and breathless laughter tinkles above him. 

“Father will be furious, you're late at your own gala." 

He grasps as his brother's hips, matching him thrust to thrust and relishing the breathy moans that came out of those glistening lips. He withdraws his thumb, replaces it fully with his yearning tongue. Seraphim's hand grips the back of his brother's neck and he is reminded of his father's hand curling into their mother's hair, the sick glee in the king's eyes at the pitiful moans of their mother before she is dragged back to their chambers. He pulls away, the memory souring the thrill of tonight's escape. He shakes his head, dispelling the memory.

A thin string of saliva is pulled taut between their mouths, glinting weakly in the dark, and Seraphim wishes to pull his brother back to him with it. He also wishes he were stronger not to want that.

"I'll say there was some trouble with one of the broodmares," is what he says instead, driving the warmth of Heron's body down on his cock, chasing the delicious tightening of his brother's velvet cavern.

"Ah-! Ugh, oh, broo- broodmare, huh?" Heron’s movement slow, distracted, and Seraphim takes the chance to twist their positions, rolling Heron to his back and pushing his lean thighs to his chest, his legs over Seraphim’s shoulders. Hay and sawdust beneath his knees and fists, Heron’s warm chest heaving against his. His hips move in a well-known rhythm, the one they both have been dancing to since they first discovered the avarices of the flesh, his cock ever thrusting, ever returning into the snug embrace of his brother.

“ _ Fuck-”  _ Heron starts to shout but Seraphim muffles him with a kiss, his tongue lapping fist gently at the corner of his brother’s lips before delving harshly deep into his open mouth.

“ _ Hnngggh,”  _ is the only thing that escapes the spaces between their hungry mouths, Seraphim devouring each sound, each plea and imprecation Heron makes as he drives his cock deeper inside him, for himself only, “ _ hnnghh, hnnnghh!” _

Seraphim pulls away from his mouth for a moment and a litany of protesting moans rushes out of Heron. He keeps his hips thrusting, the wet clapping of flesh as his thighs meet the cheeks of Heron’s ass a hypnotic symphony to Heron’s lustful prayers.

" _ Gods, _ " his brother breathes, entwining his fingers with Seraphim's, " _ Sera _ , shit, shit  _ faster _ , Sera, faster-  _ fuck _ !"

Seraphim's mouth moves down, kissing a wet trail from the corner of Heron's mouth to an erect nipple. The fingers intertwined with his spasm and Seraphim can only grin around the still hardening nub in his mouth.

"My most favourite broodmare," he murmurs, twirling his tongue on that sensitive nub. 

A small part of Seraphim, darker than the darkened rest, laments the fact Heron was not born a woman. What wonder it would have been, filling Heron with his seed and having it take root, to witness it flourish into a life of their own making. How Seraphim would have loved to trace the swell of breasts full of milk for their babe with his tongue, would have spent his life ensuring Heron will never be empty of a child.

But then again, he thinks as he takes Heron's cock with their coupled hands, perhaps this is fate's kinder design for them all. Heron as a woman would have been arranged for marriage before Seraphim could even understand what's happening, would have been possessed by another man and Seraphim would not be able to take that, wouldn't have lasted a day before killing everyone involved in taking Heron away from him.

(He thinks of Father, the harsh grip he always has on Mother's shoulder, and wonders if he has inherited love from him.)

“ _ Sera _ ,” his brother cries as his release erupts between them, warm sticky cum sputtering across their hands and chests. 

“Do be a little quieter, Heron,” Seraphim murmurs, teasing as he dives down yet again to capture his brother’s sounds of pleasure, “Someone might hear.”

From below, Heron smiles, the satiated shadow of an ‘o’ his mouth makes showing glints of teeth. 

“Oh, are you afraid,” he asks Seraphim, cheekily challenging even as his legs slide down Seraphim’s chest to convulse weakly around his still thrusting hips, “is the Royal Prince afraid he’ll be caught in the stables fucking his own brother on the night he’s meant to choose his wife?”

“I just don’t want them to see you like this,” He bites those lips, glistening with their shared saliva, as he chases his own release.

His fingers disentangle theirselves from Heron’s so it can grip his brother’s hips, thrusting in punctuation to his next words.

“ _ This _ ,” a wild thrust evokes a wilder keen from Heron, “sight,” another bite on another nipple has his brother gripping his hair tight, “belongs,” cum and sweat between their skins, “only,” a cry devoured yet again by an ever hungering mouth, “to  _ me _ .”

Seraphim’s release is a coiling heat that tightens his abdomen, pulling at all his limbs and quickening his heart. He drops down fully on his brother’s chest as his cock spurts inside Heron’s warmth, his hands scrabbling up to cup his brother’s cheeks and kiss him again, and again, and again.

Heron groans, "I’m going to get killed for making you late to your own gala."

Another kiss, another trail of saliva linking their gasping lips.

“I’ll tell Father you helped me deal with the horses,” Seraphim promises, laughing before kissing the pout of Heron’s mouth. He rests his forehead on Heron’s, mindless of both of their sweat matted hair.

As one, they breathe.

( _ Two placentas,  _ Ariana had whispered to him once upon a time. A confession that had his chest loosening, the guilt and shame unspooled by the revelation, the monster in him purring in satisfaction.  Seraphim pins everything, the shameful attraction and the overwhelming need to possess, he pins everything to that detail,  _ two placentas,  _ and doesn't look too carefully at anything else.

_ Different fathers, _ he thinks, the talisman he holds against the sin they've been committing.)


End file.
